deeply severed from the remainder of the nation, or what founded and consolidated its power. I take its existence as an established fact, and I am endeavouring to account for the peculiar view which it took of the greater part of human actions.
The first thing that strikes me is, that in the feudal world actions were not always praised or blamed with reference to their intrinsic worth, but that they were sometimes appreciated exclusively with reference to the person who was the actor or the object of them, which is repugnant to the general conscience of mankind. Thus some of the actions which were indifferent on the part of a man in humble life, dishonoured a noble; others changed their whole character according as the person aggrieved by them belonged or did not belong to the aristocracy.
When these different notions first arose, the nobility formed a distinct body amidst the people, which it commanded from the inaccessible heights where it was ensconced. To maintain this peculiar position, which constituted its strength, it not only required political privileges, but it required a standard of right and wrong for its own especial use.
That some particular virtue or vice belonged to the nobility rather than to the humble classes,—that certain actions were guiltless when they affected the villain, which were criminal when they touched the noble,—these were often arbitrary matters; but that honour or shame should be attached to a man's actions according to his condition, was a result of the internal constitution of an aristocratic community. This has been actually the case in all the countries which have had an aristocracy; as long as a trace of the principle remains, these peculiarities will still exist; to debauch a woman of colour scarcely injures the reputation of an American,—to marry her dishonours him.
In some cases feudal honour enjoined revenge and stigmatized the forgiveness of insults; in others it imperiously
